The print that changed when it was turned

An original account of an invented exhibition visit.

The print looked like a crowded street. Tall blocks leaned towards a white strip, and small dark shapes clustered at their bases. I began to imagine windows, shop signs and people pressed beneath the buildings. There was no title to confirm any of this.

Beside the frame, a small handle allowed the mounted print to turn. I moved it through half a circle. The street fell away. What I had called buildings became hanging shapes, and the white strip widened into an area of sky. The dark figures now seemed to float rather than stand.

I turned it back, expecting the street to return exactly as before. It did not. I could still see the other arrangement inside it, like a second tune remembered while the first was playing. The lines had not moved in relation to one another. My first explanation of them had lost its authority.

Other visitors tried the handle and offered different descriptions. Someone saw a shelf of tools; another saw cliffs above a harbour. We did not settle which was right. We began pointing to the particular marks that made each view possible, looking more closely because we no longer agreed at first glance.

How does the writer show the print encouraging different interpretations?